


A werewolf in love

by NuageNuageux



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Oblivious Derek, POV Derek Hale, Pining Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 09:23:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8396236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NuageNuageux/pseuds/NuageNuageux
Summary: Derek could be described as a lot of things. First, he was a Hale, son of Talia and Robert Hale, brother of Laura and Cora Hale. He was a werewolf, a beta in a rag tag pack who could shift into a full wolf. He was dark haired with tan skin, he was handsome (and no, he didn’t like to be called “hot” that much), a brooder who had a permanent scowl on his face (like some members of his pack would say), a polyglot (he could talk English, French, Italian, German and Spanish), and as he himself would sometimes admit, a nerd. His bookshelves were full of classic novels and non-fictions alike, and he could recite poetry if he wished to. But, if someone asked Derek how he would describe himself in a minimum of words, it would be: in love.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Heeeeey guys !
> 
> So, one more fanfic. Oh my gosh, it's so difficult to write in english, I don't know how authors with english as second language do it this much. Anyway.  
> Not a lot of dialogue, sorry ! I tried to make it fluffy ? I don't know if this works that well, but ugh.
> 
> Not Beta'ed, all mistakes are mine, and if there's something that you can't understand, it's because I tried to google some turns of words and I failed at writing sentences that make sense. Sorry !  
> Hope you like it anyway !

 

Derek could be described as a lot of things. First, he was a Hale, son of Talia and Robert Hale, brother of Laura and Cora Hale. He was a werewolf, a beta in a rag tag pack who could shift into a full wolf. He was dark haired with tan skin, he was handsome (and no, he didn’t like to be called “hot” that much), a brooder who had a permanent scowl on his face (like some members of his pack would say), a polyglot (he could talk English, French, Italian, German and Spanish), and as he himself would sometimes admit, a nerd. His bookshelves were full of classic novels and non-fictions alike, and he could recite poetry if he wished to.

 

 

But, if someone asked Derek how he would describe himself in a minimum of words, it would be: in love.

 

 

For some people, it wouldn’t be the first thing to come to mind, but for Derek, the day he realized that his heart was beating for a specific someone, his life went from disastrous to holy-shit-why-should-this-happen-to-me. So, yeah.

 

He’d never wanted to fall in love again. It wasn’t the plan. He should have been too busy surviving to do a thing so trivial like falling in love, but alas, fate had other plans for him.

 

Oh, nothing worth of noticing at first. This specific someone saved him, once, twice, well a lot of times to be honest. This someone was clever, funny, witty, and the worse of it all, a fucking pain in the ass. So, okay Stiles was beautiful, with his eyes and his hair and his moles and his nose and his smile and his everything, but Derek could be immune to this charming man if this man could just leave him the fuck alone.

 

 

Seriously, Stiles was everywhere. He was there in the supermarket, around the corner, in his flat during pack meetings, and even once to the movies on a Monday night at 10 pm to see an obscure French movie with subtitles. What a joke.

So, no, at first, Derek didn’t notice at all. He was even getting used to it. Seeing Stiles every day, even just in passing, was a Thing. A Thing he almost looked forward to. A Thing that, when it didn’t happen, made him disappointed and upset, for a reason unknown.

Well, unknown until this day.

 

 

You know, THE day.

 

The day where Stiles could have died just because Derek had been a little piece of shit and attacked a fucking witch who had decided to prank some people in Beacon Hills just because she was bored. The day where Stiles was a hero once more, and put himself in danger for Derek, as if Derek were worth it. And that, Derek could never really get the hang of it.

Anyway, as Stiles saved the day – again – and Derek watched from the sidelines, covert in blood with his guts in the open air -again-, while the pack came running with their claws out, Derek felt a little something deep in his stomach. No, not the skin that tried to get back together, or his flesh which reconstructed itself, but more precisely like a flock of teeny tiny birds flipping their wings and pecking his insides. Like there was something in there, a feeling he had, something he hadn’t feel since… Well, since Paige.

 

Shit.

 

It was as if right this moment, he really saw Stiles. He opened his eyes and understood what was right in front of him. He saw the man that he was, brave and fiercely loyal, the one who tried to save the ones he cared about. He saw him as a knight in a bumpy armor, with his sword high in the air, who was always there. And most of all, he saw the man he would eventually become. The one that could be by his sides always, who could lift him up when he’d be down, who’d make him laugh when he was sad, this beautiful man who could be his rock, his anchor. But also the man Derek could live for instead of just survive.

 

Anyway,this day was a long time ago. Almost two years now (632 days, that is to say, one year, eight months and twenty-four days to be exact, but who counts this kind of things?) that being in love with Stiles was a part of him. He was in love like he was right handed. He sought Stiles whenever he entered a room or put a foot outside, like he used to search for the moon during the night even when there were clouds. He breathed his scent and put a hand on his shoulder whenever he passed near him, like a caress, a gentle touch, an automatic and unconcerned gesture. That was a thing he did, a thing he felt in his core, and he was more than used to it. But he also knew that it was a lost cause, that the relationship he’d dreamt of would never get real.

 

Stiles went from girlfriend to girlfriend (human or not), blonde, brunette or redhead. But always gorgeous and bright, who smiled a little too much. Derek didn’t really mind, to be honest. Sure, his heart always got a little constricted when he heard about Janet, Claire or Sue, and so what if his eyes got a little misty and that he had a lump in his throat when he saw Stiles and his girlfriend kissing? What if he sometimes took a little too much time to go to sleep because he liked to imagine a world where he could be with Stiles and cuddle him and kiss him and hold his hand and call him his boyfriend? That was not so terrible. If he’d succeeded to live through his entire family’s death and survive to kanima to psychopathic grandpas, he could survive anything, right? Even pining and longing.

 

So, imagine his surprise when he first noticed that what he felt could be reciprocated.

 

It was the little things at first.

 

These days, when Stiles came in barging in his flat, he always had with him some coffee for Derek, black with two sugars, just like Derek used to drink. Sometimes, when Derek got not really good days, Stiles even got some chocolate muffins (two or three at once, Stiles was really generous with sweet goods). The younger man now sat next to him all the time, touching from shoulder to knee, even if there’s a spot next to Scott on the couch. Last week, he even laid his head on Derek’s lap during movie night. And fell asleep! Without his pillow! Derek got still flabbergasted just thinking about it. So he didn’t (think about it). (Oh but he did, during the night when he’s all alone in his bed, imagining what it could mean if Stiles could sleep somewhere else without his pillow, like in Derek’s bed, his head on Derek’s shoulder…)

But there were other things. Stiles looked for Derek’s gaze and when they locked their eyes, Derek was not the only one with red ears and flaming cheeks. And when their fingers brushed, the touch lingered. And Stiles’s smell got different too. Sweeter, and lighter. And his heartbeat got faster, like a horse galloping through meadows. And all of that made Derek’s head spin with all the possibilities.

 

It happened on a Saturday night. The pack was gathered around burgers and fries in Rosie’s Dinner, talking about the movies they went to see, even though Scott and Kira, and Boyd and Erica spent the full two hours making out. Even though Lydia and Allison commented every action and hairstyles of each character throughout the movie, they strangely enough still had something to say about what’s-his-name saving the-badass-damsel-in-distress, and the others were trying valiantly to follow the discussion that soon derived to feminism and overused tropes. But Derek was still thinking about what happened only two hours ago. Because, two hoursr earlier, something really weird happened. Weird, but so exciting that his heart was still beating nervously in his chest, and the flock of birds had appeared again in his stomach.

 

Stiles held his hand. And it was definitely not an accident.

 

So, they were sitting next to each other, as usual (holy fuck, AS USUAL). Derek could hear the couples smooching two seats behind them, breathlessly, and could smell their arousal so much that he could have been himself gotten hard if he wasn’t so nervous just breathing the same air as Stiles. It was awkward. Should they share the armrest? Should Derek let the armrest to Stiles? After all, it was on Stiles’s right side, Derek could survive with his left hand just resting on his thigh… They didn’t have any snack to share and play the buffer between them, to put their hands in the bucket and to linger among the popcorn, brushing against each other in the pretext to catch some to eat. And yet…

 

And yet it was not even the middle of the movie, and there was a big explosion, when Derek felt something light caressing the back of his hand. He choked on air when long fingers grazed his skin, searching for his. When they interlaced, Derek could have sworn that his heart just stopped. His face became red like a ripe tomato, and goosebumps rose on his arms. And the best thing is, that they held hands for more than an hour and a half and it was glorious.

 

Now, Derek is looking at Stiles through his lashes, self-conscious and still blushing like a virgin maiden. And Stiles is looking right back at him.

He doesn’t hear a word the others are saying, too preoccupied by what -or who- is in front of him, and gets even more surprised when the other man just…

Is he sliding his curly fries right in front of Derek?!

 

Okay, what the fuck is happening.

 

-What the fuck are you doing.

 

-Uh… What ?

 

The pack stops talking all at once. Everybody’s looking at Derek, who’s looking at Stiles, who’s watching Derek with his big brown eyes and his mouth open in a slightly shocked expression.

Derek takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a second.

 

-What. Are you. Doing.

 

-I’m… sharing my curly fries?

 

Derek keeps quiet, and Stiles gets more fidgety, growing uncomfortable with every second that passes. Not three seconds later, the pack stands up as one, Scott wolfing the last bite of his burger while Allison is finishing her coke in big gulps, as Lydia talks.

 

-So, apparently, you have things to discuss. And… we have other things to do than be witnesses of your inability to act like adults, so we’re going. You, stay here, talk, and stop being idiots. It’s getting weird. And pathetic.

 

And just like that, she turns around and walk away in a swift movement, followed by the others who glance back at them with laughter in their eyes. Assholes.

 

-So…

 

Stiles clears his throat and lowers his gaze.

 

The werewolf frowns a second, then takes a fry in his hand, like it contains the meaning of life.

 

-You never share your fries.

 

-I know.

 

Derek bites on the food, even though his mouth gets a little dry. He swallows roughly, before adding:

 

-You don’t even share them with Scott.

 

-I know.

 

Stiles takes a deep breath while Derek just loses his.

 

-I’d thought that… you’d like them. I mean, I think you do and that, maybe… you would... want some of them?

 

He draws his lips in a tight line, shoulders hunched and knee bouncing under the table. Derek doesn’t know what to say, but the hope is bubbling in his soul and he feels a little too tight in his own body.

 

-That’s nice.

 

Oh god. He’s a human disaster. That’s nice?! The love of his life is right here in front of him subtly letting him know he likes him back and all he has to say is that it’s nice?

 

-I mean… I like them. The fries. I really… really like them, Derek finishes lamely.

 

Stiles seems to relax marginally, but Derek can clearly hear his heart still fluttering behind his ribcage.

 

-That’s good. I wasn’t sure… You never said-

 

-Yeah, no, I know. But I didn’t know I could hope something like this.

 

Derek shrugs like it’s nothing when in fact, he feels so light he could fly.

 

-We’re not talking about curly fries anymore, right? Stiles asks shyly.

 

Derek lets a small laugh escape from his mouth, shaking his head.

 

-No, we’re not.

 

The corner of Stiles’s mouth lifts a little, and his eyes bore into Derek. The werewolf stills under his scrutiny.

 

-I’d like to be with you, Derek.

 

-But… I thought you liked girls?

 

-I do. But I like you more. It’s been that way for a while now.

 

Derek has his eyes wide open, and swallows loudly. Is that… happiness he feels right now? This feels – strange. But very nice also.

 

-Oh. That’s good.

 

-Yeah? Stiles asks, a smile gracing his lips and absolute joy shining in his eyes.

 

-Mmh. Yes. Because I really like you too.

 

Derek Hale was a werewolf in love. But that was okay, because he was loved, too.

 


End file.
